


Wayne and Darry Have a Baby

by ectoProctologist



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectoProctologist/pseuds/ectoProctologist
Summary: For a class assignment for his Womans Studys Class, Squirrelly Dan has to write about homosexual relationships.  Who else but his two best buds should he get to help?
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. A Fuss at the AssHall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remy_Etienne_Creed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remy_Etienne_Creed/gifts).



Squirrely Dan was having a hell of a time sorting out how he was going to go abouts writing this research paper for his women’s studies class. It was supposed to be about homosexual relations, something he and the rest of the hicks knew nothing about. Even though it was a trope used time and time again in low-budget raunchy sitcoms to have the toughest of the group take a women’s studies class at community college, Dan still wanted to perform with the highest excellence to bes more appealing to Professor Tricia. He’d thought about going to ask the one homosexual he knew sorta well in Letterkenny, Roald, but the skids made him antsy.

He had attempted other strategies to get him thinkins abouts the gays. He looked up a bunch of soft boys on the internets the other day, and tried to mix himself a batch. After scrolling through a fair deal of online content, he discovered the soft boys only made him softer. He went to seek counsel from the closest people he knew to being homosexuals: the hockey players. “We’ve only, you know, given each other a tug a few times,” Jonesy explained cautiously.

“Only in front of the Big City Snipers. They say that they’re into a little man on man action, but I think they’re just pulling one over on us,” Riley chirped in.

“I only got a little stiff.”

“No you didn’t!” hissed Riley, too embarrassed to admit any kind of pleasure had come from the event. They had only tugged at each other’s horns four or five times at this point, all at the request of the Big City Snipes. Whenever they tried to kiss, they pretended they were slapping tongue on a juicy old puss, which made the experience tolerable. One time however, completely unplanned, Riley nut on Jonesy’s face. Jonesy was on his knees licking the puss of a wheel-snipe-celly, while next to him Riley was getting sucked on by a big city snipe. At the moment of Riley’s nut, the Big City Snipe took the horn out her mouth, and aimed it in the direction of Jonesy’s face. Jonesy had never actually made a woman give the “yes yes yes yes” and orgasm before, and thought his pussy-licking skills had made his sniper orgasm. What he believed to be she-jizz was actually Riley’s load. Both Riley and Jonesy had their eyes closed in this moment and never found out about the jizzening, and felt extreme sexual satisfaction at the load just had, thinking it had been shared with the snipes. This was the gayest moment of their lives thus far.

Obviously the hockey players were a bust. Maybe he oughta try being gays for himselves just to get a feel for it, you know, get in their heads. Not knowing any man who would give him a greasy tug in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, he headed to the one person he know who’d bite. “Anything for you, my hairy chieftan,” Gailer said as she swayed behind the bar of Modeans 2, taking off Dan’s overall straps with her teeth. “You ain’t your pal Wayne, but you’ll do just fine. I can smell his sack powder residue on you just fine.” Now to make this as accurate a homoerotic experience as possible, Dan had Gail dress as a man, knowing she had her Steve Harvey costume left over from Halloween last year. With her bald cap, taped-on moustache, and tan suit, she almost fit the bill. “The Price is Right here, you big picklebarreled caveman,” she said as she pulled her ass cheeks wide about an inch from Dan’s face.

Needless to say, the experience just didn’t do just biscuits. Goddamn half the time Dan didn’t feel like he was fucking another man, he didn’t even feel like he was toe curlin’ with another human. All the literal toothpaste caught in his pubic hair after the event left him unsettled. The only people who could help him with his projects nows was his two best pals, and theys wasn’t going to be likins what he had to say.

“Fellas, I gots yous a propositions.”

“Pitter patter, Squirrely Dan,” Wayne said as he was pouring out the rest of his Puppers. The shade from the produce stand wasn’t enough to beat the Letterkenny heat, and the chill of the Puppers was supplemented by the slow drunkenness that overtook Wayne and Darry. This was the perfect setting to get them to agree if they was gonna. Thank God Miss Katys wasn’t here.

“I’ll do all your chorins for the next month and round us up a couple handles of Gus n’ Bru.”

“That’s quite an offer Dan. What kind of phone books are we sellins here for that?” chirped in Darry.

“I need y’alls to be tunnel buddies for just a little research project I’m doing for Professor Tricias.”

Wayne shot up like he was about to have himself a scrap. “You need to sort yourself out bud,” he muttered as he turned away from the group.

“Now hold on now Wayne,” said Darry, obviously intrigued by the idea. Without getting up he tugged on Wayne’s flannel sleeve and said, “No chorin for a month! I’d be’s willin’s to do just about anything for no chorin’ for a month.”

  
“I certainly wouldn’t. You need to get your priorities straight, bud.”

“Well I certainly would. And two, two, two handles of Gus n’ Bru? That’d be enough to last us through the week!”

“I see you’re point, but that just ain’t worth it Darry.”

“We ain’t been getting too frisky lately. Things been pretty bone dry for both of us, right?”

To this Wayne did turn his head back to his friends and looked down directly at Daryl. He had had a point. Things had been pretty bone dry indeed since the engagement turned for the worst with Marie. He’d had a few toss abouts with Tanis after that, but she’d started up with The Ginger the past few months, and he wasn’t up for getting near that greasy fuck. Man allegedly fucked himself an ostrich. And of course he’d had SOME thoughts about Darry over the years. How could you not? Man practically looked like a girl himself with that fucking long curly fucking hair of his.

Wayne stared out into the distance and poured his near-empty Puppers into the grass. “Alright now,” he squatted down to look Darry straight in the eyes. “We don’t look each other in the eyes, you don’t make any loud noises, and, most importantly,” he got up and started towards the barn, “I’m on top.” Dan was surprised at how willing his friends were at this point. Neither he nor Darry moved as Wayne, halfway to the barn, turned around and looked at them.

“Well, pitter patter!’

“Holds on a seconds, I needs to grabs my cameras for documentation purposes,” Dan said as he stumbled back towards the house. Darry downed the rest of his Puppers, tilting the bottle up to the sky. He nearly tripped over his own boots trying to catch up to Wayne, already thinking about the mild fuzz on his chiseled cheeks.


	2. Finding Darry a Stud

Dan licked his lips as he tried to get his old VHS camcorder rolling. He’d gotten the thing for Christmas when he was ten. He’d never intended on using it for these purposes at the time. In the hay loft of the barn he’d spread out a nice picnic blanket for the sexual experiment. Darry and Wayne stood on it, still fully clothed, staring at each other, hesitant to begin. The only sound that could be heard was Squirrely Dan’s heavy breathing.   
“I wish you weren’t so fucking awkward, bud,” Wayne said, no one entirely sure who the comment was directed towards. With a heavy sigh he turned, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down in militaristic fashion. A hard-days-work’s sweat shone at the angle of his pelvic bone hitting the sunlight. Wayne wadded up his flannel shirt and tossed it in the corner.   
“Get, on it, Darry,” he mumbled looking down.  
“You still got your boots on.” Darry was stalling. Not that he wasn’t sweating with excitement over Wayne’s surprisingly wide nipples.   
“I don’t want the mice nipping at my feet. There’s mice in here.”  
“That’s what the picnic blankets is fors,” said Dan.   
“There’s mice under the blanket under the hay, waiting to eat my feet. I’m keeping these boots on, or we’re not doing this, and I suggest you do the same.”  
It took Darry at least ten minutes to get out of his blue jumpsuit while keeping his boots on, but watching him struggle really got Wayne in the mood for this. He’d always seen Darry squirm to get out of his hold when they was wrestling as kids or playing nightcrawlers. He’d thought until that moment that he was enjoying the thrill of the action, when it had always been watching Darry’s vulnerability in those moments that got Wayne excited. Soon as they were both naked except their boots, Wayne turned Darry round and forced him by the neck to bend over.


	3. You Were Out Chorin' With Your Pals the Other Day...

“I just think it’s a little presumptuous for them to be sayin’ that I ‘can’t believe its not butter’. I darns well know what’s butter and what’s not butter by the taste, and that margarine shit ain’ts the real deal,” Squirrely Dan said as he grunt-tossed a large bale of hay towards Wayne. It was here three months ago that the boys had participated in Dan’s experiment. After the deed was done nobody had anything to say about and life went back to how it’d always been. Mixin’ a batch in each other’s backdoor exits hadn’t seemed to make them grow more distant nor closer. For that matter, it was hard to imagine Wayne and Darry any closer than they had always been.  
“I think you’re taking it a little too personally there, bud,” grunted Wayne as he caught the bale. “Most of the people watching those ads don’t have quite the eyes, ears and tongues for agriculture that we do.” Wayne tossed the bale to Darry, who was loading the hay in the back of Wayne’s pickup.  
“People like us don’t really see those ads too often anyway,” Darry huffed, standing on the truck bed while trying to balance the bales a head taller than he was really capable of, a job that might have been better suited for the other two more beefcaked boys. “Agricultural types like us don’t even have cable, most everyone in Letterkenny just uses Hulu Premium. Not only is it more affordable, but it has access to the newest movies, shows, and even animes as they come out. Not to mention a choice selection of high quality Hulu originals.”  
“Careful stacking all those up there, bud,” Wayne said as he tossed the next bale to Darry. They had performed this task thousands of times before, but as the bale was meant to make contact with Darry’s hands, it instead got him in the chest and knocked him off his feet, sending him over the side of the truck. When Darry hit the dirt, a spray of yellow-green puke flew out his mouth and pooled around his head like a halo of bilious nectar. He lay supine with his extremities extended on the barn floor, chunks of previously digested grilled-cheese sandwiches speckled throughout his boyishly messy hair. Along with the overwhelming concern Wayne felt for his best friend in that moment, he also felt a pang of deep arousal, usually only activated when seeing Miss Fire flirt with General Public on the TV.  
"We's gots to gets him to the hospital, he fell on his head and mays haves some kind of head bleed or spinal injury."  
Dan and Wayne immediately sprang into action. Wayne crouched down to wipe the dirt and vomit from Darrys face while Dan constructed a makeshift cervical spine collar out of wood scraps and twine. They carried Darry to the back seat of the pickup and Wayne threw the keys to Dan. “You drive.” This was particularly confusing for Dan, as nobody was ever allowed to drive Wayne’s truck unless he was intoxicated. He did not linger on this thought too long due to the urgency of the situation, and hopped in the driver’s seat. Wayne sat in the backseat with Darry, holding his head in his lap while stroking his puke-stained hair. “That’s usually an intimacy only reserved for one of the German Sheppard pups,” Dan thought to himself, “He must be real worried.”  
Within the hour they had Darry in an ER bed. Dan spoke with the nurse about what happened while Wayne had helped Darry change into a hospital gown. After many quick tests and scans, the boys waited in silence to hear what was to become of their friend. Everyone jumped when the doctor pulled the curtain back without warning.  
“I didn’t know you were a doctor, coach,” Wayne said to the doctor.  
"And I didn't know you were a useless fucking pheasant!" Indeed, the ER physician that stood before them was none other than the coach of the Letterkenny Irish hockey team.  
“Do you think I make any money watching those fucking pheasants beat each other off on the ice? Of course I have to have a real job. I only coach to get out of the house, otherwise I get lonely thinking about my dead wife, Barb…” the doctor-coach trailed off, looking across the room at the blank wall. Nobody said anything to each other for a solid thirty seconds.  
“Well get it at, what the hell is wrong with Darry?!” barked Squirrely dan in his most aggressive of tones, only previously used in regards to that tit Dalton Thibodeaux.  
“Oh yeah he’s pregnant,” Coach muttered looking down at a clipboard with a blank piece of paper on it.  
Wayne didn’t move his gaze as stood up. “Pregnant, you say?”  
“Yes, we performed an abdominal ultrasound to look for any internal bleeding, but there was just a baby in there.” Coach approached Darry slowly, and laid a hand on his forehead, pulling the hair from out front of his eyes with the back of his thumb. Darry seemed to sink into himself, doing everything he could to pull away from this inappropriate intimacy. He continued to stroke Darry’s forehead with his thumb as he said, “You’re what I always imagined my dead wife, Barb, would have been like if she’d had a baby. Sweet. Innocent. Fertile.”  
To this Wayne grabbed Coach’s wrist and yanked it up to their eye-level. “Listen here. I don’t know what kind of Tumblr fucking bullshit this is, and it doesn’t matter how this would make sense scientifically, but you can’t go touching another man’s partner like that.” He threw Coach’s hand to the side. Dan and Darry both looked surprised, but not very surprised.  
Coach glared and turned to walk out of the room. “I’m going to get your discharge ready,  
and muttered, “Fucking pheasants.”  
Wayne stared after him as he walked out, his back turned to his two pals. “Darry, a word?” Wayne asked, not looking at either of them, still in a fighting stance. Dan knew to get out of there, and awkwardly shuffled past the hospital bed, his belly pressing against both Darry and Wayne as he struggled to get out of the tiny room.  
“I think we both knew this was coming eventually,” Darry said just above a whisper. Wayne’s back was still turned.  
“Been a long time coming, I suppose. Guess we just needed an excuse to get the ball rolling,” Wayne said as he turned around, maintain an serious expression with his arms folded to his chest. A smile creeped across Darry’s face.  
“Balls,” he laughed to himself. He practically jumped out of the hospital bed and wrapped his legs around Wayne’s waist, holding himself up around Wayne’s neck as he went in for a kiss.  
They maintained this position as the curtain pulled back. “I brought you some clothes from home, Darry,” Katy said as she started to walk in. When she witnessed the scene before her, she smiled, set the flannel and jeans down, and walked out of the room. The two didn’t seem to notice her entrance or exit, and as she left she thought to herself, “Finally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think now would be an appropriate time to get on my hipster soapbox to mention how the soundtrack is like a homage to Goner Record's early 2000's releases like The Oblivians, the late Jay Reatard, and the like. I'm not sure if Jared Keeso just has a fondness for that sound or what the story is there, but that's what I's appreciates abouts hims.


	4. ExCUUSE Me, Seriously Please and Thank You

Life carried on for the boys with little difference for a while. Shortly after the pregnancy announcement Darry sold his trailer and moved in with Wayne and Katy to “cut costs”. During the long days of chorin’ things weren’t much different, but now Wayne and Darry would lay in bed into the early morning hours watching the Miss Fire box-set. Darry wasn’t all to familiar with the show, so it was an opportunity for Wayne to introduce hours and hours of content to his good buddy. Wayne could almost quote the entire series, but obviously chose not to, because he was fucking decent. This new lifestyle gave the outside world a peek into Wayne’s nightly rituals. He would start off his decompression time with one Puppers lasting approximately thirty minutes. Then he would pour himself a shot of Gus n’ Bru, toss it back, and let it marinate for about fifteen minutes. Then he would drink half of a Puppers, take a shot of Gus n’ Bru, pour the shot of Gus n’ Bru into the Puppers bottle using a funnel he kept in his nightstand and shake the bottle with his thumb over the opening. This drink would last him for another hour and a half.   
With Darry officially moved in, their situation was more domestic than any of Wayne’s previous relationships. This made him the first person to become privy to his pre-bedtime drinking diet. However, with a permanent partner in the mix, Wayne only thought it appropriate to include Darry in the process. Normally Wayne would have opened his bedside minifridge to his friend/lover, but on accounts of Darry’s being pregnant, alcohol consumption for him was out of the question. Bringing O’Douls into the mix was an unacceptable solution. So, about a month into their new living situation, Darry was on the brink of falling asleep while they were watching TV. Without any kind of preface, Wayne laid Darry flat on his back. Darry, thinking this was going to be some kind of mild lazy-sideways pre-bedtime fuck sesh, didn’t think anything of it. He was waiting for Wayne’s stiff penetration when he felt something wet in the little crevice on his sternum. Had Wayne already nut?  
Darry opened an eye to see Wayne pouring the last of his Gus n’ Bru/Puppers cocktail into Darry’s little chest divot. Then, Wayne gently put his face in it, and starting lapping up the drink out of his chest like a small dog. He watched Wayne’s tongue flick forward and back, getting little bits of the drink into his mouth but mostly just spraying it everywhere. Watching Wayne’s tongue made him hard, harder than he’d been all day, at least. Then, when most of the liquid had disappeared, Wayne unceremoniously rolled off of Darry, laid on his right side, and fell asleep instantly. This started to happen every second Sunday and third Tuesday of the month, and neither of them dared to have any kind of conversation about it. However, the next night after these performances always made for the hardest of nuts on both ends during a bout of missionary style fuckin’ suckin’.   
…  
“You may enter.”  
The door to Stewart’s basement opened to see him sitting on a black loveseat with a Big City Slam on each knee. He was naked save for a dark purple bathrobe and black Coverse Hightops without socks. A narrow cumstained rug lead to the foot of the chair from the door. The sound of the door hitting the wall echoed throughout the room. Everything was silent aside from the low volume of a Smash Bros tournament taking place in the corner between five skids, all of whom said nothing as Kirby swallowed the Wii Fit trainer for the third time that round.   
Roald exited the doorway, scampering towards Stewart’s feet with the gait of a sad Naruto run. The black cloak he was wearing over his Animaniguchi t-shirt flared behind him as he ran. Once arriving to Stewart’s feet, he genuflected with his face touching the laces and his ass high in the air. He sucked on Stewart’s ankles for a moment to get the sweet and savory taste of his leader’s sweat under his tongue.   
“Roald, stop at once!” Roald hopped to his feet. “Tell me what news you have from the outside world.”  
Roald lifted his head and stumbled back. “The prophecy has been fulfilled, my liege.”   
Stewart’s eyes grew wide. “Who is it?!”  
“The scary quiet hick and his curly-haired boy. The boy is the carrier, of course.”  
“Roald!”  
“Stewart?”  
“ROALD!”  
“STEwwwArrTTt??!”  
“The prophecy HAS been fulfilled then.” He stood from his throne, his two Big City Slams following behind him as he walked towards the window. “As it was whispered to me by Lord Xenu during a vexing MDMA trip…’A babe born of two mens shall be the One True Skid tot. He who holds the One True Skid in the Centre of Agrarians True shall hold ultimate power o’er this domain for one, two, three moments, getting anything thou’s desires.’” Stewart turned back on his heal to face Roald. “This babe and its power shall be ours, Roald. Huzzah!”  
“Huzzah! Huzzah! HUZAHH!” they chanted back and forth at each other for a few minutes straight while the other skids continued to Smash in the corner.


End file.
